My Travels through Sleep

My thoughts ebb.
I lie still under the sod of sleep.
Is it my soul
or subconscious mind that wakes up?
This is a voyage through the fjord
in the dream-light.
I’m free,
and as light as a *water strider.
This landscape is beyond
what a man believes real.

I was sipping warm tea on a rock
before the dark women plucking green leaves.
Even when the elephants chased me,
I felt a horrible thrill.

Transforming through time,
my midlife dreams are marvelous.
Never pooped,
I travel pop-eyed.
I sometimes see the same place
I had seen in my dream.

Where will I be taken tomorrow?
I long for that traveling delight.

First published in The Literary Hatchet.

*water strider is pond skater.